Ever Since
by chasingmavericks
Summary: "Ever since you what? Ever since you had your accident?" Tag to Cloudy...With a Chance of Murder, elaborating on Shawn and Henry's argument about Shawn's past motorcycle accident. What happened that night? Read to find out!
1. 1997

**Hey y'all, I'm back already. I intend to write another longer original fic, but I want to do another tag. This is (sort of) a tag to "Cloudy...With a Chance of Murder" and specifically to the argument that happens between Henry and Shawn. Most of the story will be flashbacks to the "accident" and all will be told from Henry's POV. All of my tags (current and future) are not connected to each other.**

 **Any mistakes are mine (it's kinda late)**

 **Disclaimer: They ain't mine but I wish they were**

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 _Present day_

"You _hated_ that bike. You have _always_ hated that bike. And you've been especially hard-ass about it since I-"

"Since you what, Shawn? Since you what? Since you had your accident? Is that it? Is that where your old man crossed the line? Fine, I'll tell you what," I felt myself slam the towel down into the sink. "I will back off, I'm going to lay off, man." Suddenly I was pointing at Shawn, his expression indicating that my torrent of anger caught him off guard. "I'll tell you what you do, you take me off your call list the next time the ambulance picks you up and brings you in that door, alright? Fair." I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth but the anger was still pumping through my veins. "Get over yourself, kid." I muttered to his defeated expression. I knew he'd get over it, but I still felt bad about it. We hadn't talked about his accident since the week it had happened and evidently there was a lot of pent-up emotion we had both been hiding. I attempted to deescalate the conversation with a very father-like, "Or at least learn how to park." I shrugged my shoulders and walked out the door, finally free to process my emotions.

I don't know what came over me. All I know is that I hope he knows I didn't mean it. If I hadn't been on his call list all that time ago, my son may not be here right now. Yes, I hate his bike. But I only hate it because it is probably the most unsafe form of transportation he could have chosen. The second I mentioned his accident, I saw my son flinch. It was slight, and most people wouldn't notice, but I saw it. The nearly undetectable widening of his eyes, the involuntary intake of breath, the tensing of his shoulders, I saw it all. I know the events of that night and the following days still hide below the threshold of our subconscious, and now I just released it to the surface.

 _1997_

The dishes in the sink began to bore a hole in my back. I had cooked a nice steak dinner for myself and needed some time to digest before starting the dreaded process of cleanup. I suppose the one good thing is that I was here alone, making cleanup easier. I considered inviting Shawn over but decided against it. The newly-turned 20-year-old had a habit of avoiding his old man. In honesty, I don't particularly blame him, I just don't want to see him disappear like he did for a few months after high school. Although I don't see him as much as I'd like, I still keep tabs on him. His best friend, Gus, although in college, will regularly give me updates on my wayward son which I suppose will have to suffice, at least until Shawn decides he wants to have more of a relationship. I realized my thoughts had began to wander, so I stood up, stretched, and made my way to the sink.

I had just finished drying the dishes when I heard a knock at the door. I checked my watch and saw it was 8:52 p.m. _That's odd._ I couldn't imagine who would be knocking on my door at this time of night, unless it was one of the neighbors for some reason or another. When I opened the door, I was more than surprised to see a young, uniformed woman standing on my porch. It took me a second to place the uniform, but I quickly recognized her as a paramedic. _I didn't hear any sirens._

"May I help you?" I asked her hesitantly. Either she had the wrong address or this was a very strange circumstance.

"Are you Henry Spencer?" She asked me. Something in my mind clicked and I was immediately filled with anxiety. My heart moved to my stomach and I didn't know how to answer her, I just stared at her blankly. _Pull yourself together._ "Is your son Shawn Spencer?" There it is. She confirmed it. My worst fear has come true. _But wait. A paramedic wouldn't be delivering this news, would they? That's what the police are for._ I myself had the misfortune of making a few of those home visits, but this situation was not the same.

"What happened?" I asked, just now catching sight of the ambulance out front.

"Your son was involved in a collision between a car and a motorcycle." She stated calmly.

 _God damn it, kid._ No matter how many times I emphasize how unsafe that godforsaken mode of transportation was, he just ignores me. My anger dissolved and formed into worry. _Did she say a car?_ "Is he okay?"

"Well, he is okay enough to be refusing treatment, which is why we are here. He kept saying this address and sure enough, you are listed as his emergency contact."

"Refusing treatment?" I asked.

"He was unconscious when we first picked him up. We treated him for injuries on the scene and were in the process of transporting him to the hospital when he woke up. It took him a while to figure out what was happening, but once he did, he said he didn't want to be treated. We couldn't just leave him somewhere, so he told us to take him here."

"He's stubborn." I said, my mind still processing the information. _Unconscious. Injuries. Plural injuries._ "Shouldn't he go to the hospital?"

"Yes, but we can't make him. Maybe you can change his mind?" She asked me.

"I've been trying to do that for twenty years and I haven't had any luck. But yes, I certainly will try."

"You can come help him inside." She said, turning back toward the ambulance. I followed her, unsure what sight would greet me inside of the ambulance. I cautiously peered around the open door, only seeing the back of the other paramedic followed by the complaints of my son. I got closer so I could see what was happening. The other paramedic was in the process of removing Shawn's I.V. but Shawn kept fidgeting. "Just hold still." The man said patiently, but irritation was detectable in his voice. "I can't hold still while I'm being butchered!" I heard my son say.

"You keep talking that way to a paramedic and that will be the least of your worries." I interjected. Shawn's head snapped towards my voice and the paramedic finally succeeded in removing the I.V. and placing a bandage over his arm before stepping down from the bus. When I caught full sight of Shawn, my heart broke. I hadn't seen him in nearly a month and the last time we were together, we argued about his inability to keep a job. But now I stood, looking at my son propped up on a gurney and wanting nothing more than to gather him in my arms and carry him inside like I used to when he'd get hurt doing some stunt with Gus. His eyes were half-closed and it was evident even the light from the back of the ambulance was bothering him. His right arm was splinted and I could see the jagged rips in his jeans that were spotted with blood. "Dad." He said. It wasn't a statement or a question. It sounded...relieved? "Ready to go inside?" I asked him, trying to hide my anxiety about getting him inside to get a proper look at him. He nodded slightly and I noticed the nasty cut on his chin that was still oozing blood and trickling onto his denim collar.

Getting him out of the back and onto the ground proved more difficult than originally thought. I immediately realized he avoided putting any weight on his right leg and kept his right arm clutched closely to his side. With the help of the two paramedics, we were able to get Shawn into a sitting position on the floor of the ambulance where I then pulled him up by his left arm into a semi-standing position. We were about to start our journey to the front door when the young woman stopped me. I turned and she handed me Shawn's helmet, or what used to be his helmet. I could almost feel the color drain from my face as I took in the harsh dent to the right side and deep scrapes spreading from the front to the back. I took it in my free hand and thanked her.

"Alright Shawn, let's go." I said to my nearly dead-weight son. I received a grunt of agreement and we slowly and painfully made our way through the front door. I maneuvered us over to the couch and gently let him ease his weight down. He moaned slightly as his leg shifted and his arm settled. I quickly grabbed a neighboring pillow and placed it underneath his arm. I went to my bedroom to retrieve the first aid kit. _This is ridiculous. He needs a real doctor._

I returned and saw that Shawn's eyes were closed. I turned on the lights of the dimly lit room and Shawn's eyes squeezed shut tightly and he brought his left arm up to cover them. "Agh! Since when did you install the sun into the ceiling?" he ground out. I dimmed the lights slightly. I needed the light to be able to see the extent of his injuries. "It's either here or the hospital. And I don't think you have a choice either way." I said to him. He uncovered his eyes and for the first time in a month, I was able to look at my son closely. His eyes were ridden with pain and I could see they weren't focusing on anything in particular. _Yep, he needs a hospital._ But I decided to see what I could do to help him here. Concussion protocol was universal and as long as I was with him, I could monitor him closely. I also wasn't beyond calling the station and demanding an escort to the hospital. I'd play it by ear. "Alright, what hurts the most?" I asked while handing him several aspirin and a glass of water.

"My body." He said lazily, popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing with a sip of water. I caught sight of his chin again.

"More specific, kid."

"My leg." He let his head fall back into the cushion. I looked down at his right leg that was awkwardly stretched out from his sitting position on the couch. His jeans were shredded and it appeared that his leg to the brunt of the blow. I removed the scissors from the kit and began cutting away the ruined denim. Every so often, Shawn would hiss in pain as the material was pulled from his skin. The paramedics most likely wanted to wait for the doctors to clean it out and give him some pain medication before touching that leg. Luckily, the cuts weren't deep. It was road rash by the very definition. It was still extremely painful, but luckily not life threatening. I removed the material up to his thigh, displaying the mess of skin that remained. It wasn't pretty and based on Shawn's look of disgust, he didn't think so either.

"Alright, Shawn, we need to clean this." I said, knowing that this would not make him happy.

"No...I think it's okay." He said. I could see his body tense.

"Sorry kid, this is the Henry Hospital that you chose and what I say goes."

"Fine." He said, once again letting his head fall back and covering his eyes with his uninjured arm. I located the antiseptic and winced when I thought about how badly this stuff hurt on paper cuts. Shawn's entire leg was a mess and this was simply going to feel awful. However, it had to be done. "Okay son, deep breath." He complied. His features had turned serious. I placed the soaked gauze on the lowest part of the abused skin and began gently dabbing it while moving upwards. At first, Shawn just flinched at the touch and clenched his teeth, exhaling sharply with each breath. But as I moved up higher and more of his leg was covered in the antiseptic, he could no longer contain his agony. "Ah...God!" he yelled while pushing himself against the back cushions. "St-stop! Please...Dad!" I had just come up to his knee, which appeared significantly worse than the rest of his leg, when he grabbed my shirt surrounding my shoulder. I don't know if it was intentional, but I assumed he was searching for something to ground him.

"It's okay, Shawn. I know it hurts but we need to get it over with." I removed a new piece of gauze and soaked it in the antiseptic. Shawn's hand remained fisted in the material of my shirt the whole time. His eyes were closed and screwed up in pain. I could see he was sweating and his breath came in short pants. _Maybe I should just take him to the hospital._ The kid must have read my mind because I heard a small "Just do it" come from the tense figure in front of me. "You know the drill, deep breath." I repeated. As he complied, I placed the gauze down on his swollen, bloodied knee. The antiseptic bubbled with fury. I continued to place the soaked gauze over every inch of his knee, finally reaching the most gruesome of the wounds on the outside of his knee. It looked like a chunk of his skin was missing. I decided that placing the gauze on that may not be the best idea. I grabbed the bottle in one hand and a towel in the other, placing the towel in my left hand and supporting the bottom of his knee with that same hand. Shawn felt what I was doing and began to ask what was happening, but his words cut off into a strangled scream as I poured the antiseptic over his wound. His leg nearly jerked out of my hand and I heard my own shirt rip from his grip on it. "Da-Agh!" He yelled, tears were escaping his tightly closed eyes. I tried to ignore his protests of pain but I could feel him shaking in my grip. It was horrible. I can't even describe how it feels to be the one to cause your son _that_ much physical pain. I let the antiseptic do its work and felt Shawn's muscles relax in my grasp. His left hand fell loosely from my shoulder and into his lap. The poor kid must have passed out. I can't even imagine how much pain he must be in.

I retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen and resumed my grip on his knee. I gently let the water trickle over his wound and wash away the bubbly antiseptic. I searched through the kit and only found a small container of Neosporin. I put some of the cream on the worst parts of his leg and proceeded to wrap it up to the best of my ability. I told myself this was just temporary. The kid _would_ be going to the hospital. Shawn began to stir as I propped his leg up on a pillow on the coffee table.

"'s it ov'r?" He slurred out. "Yeah, kid. That part is." I looked toward him as he began blinking his eyes open. "What's next?" I asked him.

"They already splinted my arm. Dunno if it's broken or not." He said while looking down at the paramedics' work.

"Well luckily you'll have a hospital visit in your future to find out."

"But Daaad." He whined.

"No buts, Shawn. This is serious. You could have been killed. What were you thinking?" I didn't mean to sound accusatory, but it came off clearly that way.

"Wasn't my fault." He said quietly. I sat down next to him, knowing that starting an argument with him in this condition would lead to nowhere good. After all, although he was reckless to refuse treatment, he at least had the smarts to get brought here.

"I believe you, Shawn." His eyes looked up to meet mine. He looked incredibly innocent and about ten years younger in that moment. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Car went through a red light when I had the green. It hit my back wheel and next thing I know, well..." I felt the anger rise within me. Some idiot can't handle the three colors of a stoplight and my son is the one to pay for it. I changed the subject. I still had a task at hand. "How's your ribs?"

"Sore."

"Broken?"

"Not sure." A pause and a hitched breath. "Probably." My heart sunk. He was worse off than I thought.

"Well, there isn't much to be done about those. If you start having trouble breathing you need to tell me immediately, Shawn. We are already going to the hospital first thing tomorrow but I'll drag your ass over there at 3 a.m. if I have to." My threat worked, because he nodded in agreement.

"Your head?" I asked, looking into his eyes.

"Headache but it could be worse."

"I'm glad you're smart enough to wear a helmet."

"Can't have any accidents that'll mess up my hair." I rolled my eyes. _That kid and his hair._

"Let me get your chin cleaned up." I said as I reached for another piece of gauze. To my surprise, Shawn lifted his head so I had access to the wound. I pressed the gauze onto it and he hissed slightly. I wiped the blood from his neck and once it was cleared away, I was happy to see the cut wasn't as big as it originally looked. I placed a few butterfly bandages on it to keep it from opening again. Shawn lowered his head and I could see his eyelids were growing heavy. I packed up the first aid kit and returned it to my bedroom. When I returned, Shawn was sound asleep, awkwardly tilted in a semi-laying position with his right leg still on the coffee table. I shook my head. I retrieved a blanket from the neighboring chair and covered him with it. As gently as possible, I moved his leg to join the other one on the couch. Shawn shifted slightly but remained asleep. He looked incredibly peaceful for all the pain he had experienced. Unfortunately for him, I knew I was going to have to wake him up to monitor his possible concussion. _Just another thing for him to complain about._

I retired to the chair next to my sleeping son and the moment I sat down, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I set a timer on my watch and promptly fell asleep. Little did I know, the night was far from over.

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 **Like it? Yes? No? It's a shorter one, so it'll probably just be one more chapter. Sorry for more angsty Shawn and Henry, I couldn't help myself. Is poor Shawn out of the woods? Review and find out!**


	2. Memories

**Kind of a simple little ending...**

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 _Present Day_

I sat in my truck after leaving behind my only son in the kitchen of my house. I didn't know if I should go somewhere, or go back inside, or-

My thoughts were interrupted as I caught sight of Shawn walking out of the side door. His shoulders were slumped and his pace was quick. I knew I'd hurt him and I wish I didn't. I wasn't prepared for the onset of emotions that arose within me the second he mentioned his accident. And now I sat alone in my quiet truck. Alone with my thoughts that wouldn't leave. I was taken back to that night and the following days of his accident. The pit of my stomach was forming into knots as I remembered how foolish I was. _Why didn't you just take him to the hospital right away?_ I shook my head. I really didn't have an answer.

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 _1997_

My alarm went off every hour. Every hour I was forced to drag my son from the confines of sleep. Every hour he looked up at me with bleary, nearly unseeing eyes as I made sure his head was still in the right place. It was approaching the early morning when I noticed the slight flushed look of his cheeks and the reflected dim lights on his forehead.

"Shawn?" I asked my asleep son. He was still clothed in his ruined jeans and jacket but he didn't seem to mind.

"Mhm?" He responded with his eyes still closed.

"Wake up, kid."

"Don't wanna."

"Too bad."

Reluctantly, he blinked his eyes open at me. His eyes were glassy and before I even touched him, I could tell he was working up a fever. _Damn it._

"How do you feel?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

"Like I got hit by a car." Came his lazy, soft reply. Before he could react, I reached my hand up and placed the back of it on his forehead. "Dad..." he whined and swatted my hand away. "What gives?"

"You have a fever. I don't understand how you could already have an infection after so short of time. Maybe we need to get to the hospital sooner rather than later." I said, ready to pack up and leave right away with the early morning light.

"No, it's okay." He said. "I already had it."

"What?"

"I've been sick for the past week and a half. Thought I was over the worst of it but what happened last night must have put me a few steps back." He said. I was surprised at his honesty.

"And you didn't think about seeing a doctor during that time?" I asked my son incredulously. He looked like he was going to respond but his mouth stayed shut. He was so obviously hiding something. The edges of his mouth twitched and his eyes were cast down. _You're not the only observant one in the room, kid._ "Shawn." He sighed audibly, more so than necessary. Besides swatting my hand away a few moments ago, he had not moved much.

"I couldn't see a doctor." His eyes stayed down toward his lap.

"Just like you couldn't go to the hospital last night and ended up here instead?"

"Yes."

"Shawn." I said sternly. "What the hell is going on?"

"I-ugh, this is so stupid to say out loud."

"Well, I'm sure it isn't the first nor the last." He stayed silent a few more moments but eventually looked up at me.

"I don't have insurance. Can't afford things like that." He said, looking embarrassed. I stared back, unsure how to reply.

"What about your new job? Gus said it was going well." It took Shawn a minute of realization to understand that I had kept tabs on him through his best friend.

"Got fired...again." He said quietly. "I didn't want to upset you for the thousandth time. I wanted to show that I could live on my own and be successful. Look how that turned out." I felt an immeasurable guilt weigh over my chest. Was I really that bad that he couldn't even ask for help? I momentarily reflected on some of my past comments and arguments with him and realized I probably would have done the same thing if I were him.

"Shawn, no matter what, your health is always the most important thing. Whatever would have happened, we would have figured it out. That's what parents are for, right?"

"Didn't really think of it that way."

"Now will you go to the hospital?"

He rolled his eyes slightly but I received a nod of approval. I figured if we went now, in the early hours of the morning, Shawn would have the best chance of being seen right away, treated, and then hopefully sent home. "You ready?" I received another nod. "Alright on three." I grabbed his left hand in preparation to pull him to his feet. "One, two, three." My grip tightened and I pulled him into an awkward standing position on his left foot. I heard his harsh pant as he settled into position and he couldn't quite hide the whimper that escaped his lips. "You good?" I didn't receive a response. All of his focus seemed to be on staying upright. I prepared myself for the familiar awkward hobble we would have to do across the living room to the front door. I once again counted to three and started the journey. However, our progress abruptly halted before we even began.

I suddenly felt nearly all of Shawn's weight pressing into my shoulder and before I looked to him, I heard him cry out in pain. It wasn't just an "Ow, this hurts" type of pain, it was more of a gut-wrenching, once-in-a-lifetime type of pain that one can only hope they will never experience. "Shawn?! What's wrong?" My words fell on deaf ears. His body was rigid and I was holding all of his weight at this point. I gently started to ease him to the floor. Each of his quick breaths was cut short by a pain-filled cry. "I gotcha, I got you Shawn." I was now on my knees, cradling my son against my chest. "It's okay, shhhh, it's going to be okay." In truth, these words had no meaning to me. It was my only way to comfort my son when I had no idea what was wrong with him. _What did I miss? How did he go from semi-okay to this?_

"Shawn? Are you with me?" His was breathing fast and his eyes were shut tightly but I no longer heard the verbalized agony leaving his lips.

"B-" he tried to say but his voice broke into a strangled sob. "My b-back." he whispered. _Oh God._ My heart rate ratcheted up to unhealthy levels as I pondered the prospect of a back injury. _He was able to walk before. Can these things be delayed?_

"Can...can you feel your legs?" I asked, terrified of the answer.

He took a moment to answer, each of his breaths was cut and seasoned by a hiss laced with pain. "Y-yeah...It just...it hurts. Hurts so bad...Dad..." He ended his last statement with a pain filled grunt. His muscles were tight and it appeared like his body was trying to retreat in on itself. I realized I was completely useless at this point, although now it seemed I was useless from the beginning. I picked up my cell, and while still having Shawn's head in my lap, pressed the three necessary numbers. By the time I had explained what was happening and a unit had been dispatched, Shawn was already looking ten times worse than he had before. His cheeks were bright with fever, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and the tendons in his neck were standing out as he arched in pain.

"Easy, kid, take it easy. Focus on me." I tried to say as gently as possible.

"If y-you ask me...how many ha-agh!...hats are in the room..."

"If you don't stay with me I might just have to."

"Not...going anywhere. God! Dad it hurts..."

"I know, I'm sorry but help is coming. We will get it taken care of."

"Sorry." He whispered. I wasn't sure I even heard it. His eyes started to slip closed.

"Hey hey hey! No sleeping yet. Why are you sorry Shawn?"

"Sorry...for being a crappy son." His eyes were half open but I could read the pain and sorrow within them as clear as day. I felt a lump form in the back of my throat and suddenly my guilt was raised to an entirely new level.

"No...Shawn. What are you talking about? You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and your mother. No matter what...are you listening? No matter what, you will always be the most important thing in my life. I love you, kid." His eyes had slipped shut again and I could only hope that he heard me. I could tell that Shawn was terrified and vulnerable. He felt like he had disappointed me by ending up in this situation. This had by far been the most trying and revealing night of our relationship up until this point.

At last, I heard the sirens.

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 _Present Day_

The memories began to swallow me whole. The pictures racing through my head were not just visual reminders of that night, every emotion I felt was replicated here and now. Looking back at my recent blowup at Shawn, I have to ask myself why I reacted in such a way. That night, he ended up being okay. The contusion on his back swelled up and pressed on his spinal cord, causing him pain but no actual damage. His leg healed and so did his fractured arm and ribs. His concussion certainly wasn't the last one, and overall, my son made a full recovery. I suppose my mind tonight considered the "what if" of that night. What if instead of a paramedic there was a police officer at my door? What if he told me my entire world, my sole purpose for living, had been taken from me? What if that accident was how my son left this world? I didn't think that Shawn thought of it that way, but after seeing his body stiffen at the mention of his accident, I know my son had considered his own mortality after that night. I don't give him enough credit. We are both stubborn and it's a bad combination when one of us is wrong.

I knew my son wouldn't make it very far without his motorcycle for transportation, so I pulled my truck out of the driveway and followed the direction I saw him leave. I had been so adamant about him growing up, sometimes I forgot that I was the one that needed to as well.

The recollection of that night reminded me that every moment with Shawn was precious. From this point forward, I was determined to live by that view.

PSYCH~PSYCH~PSYCH

 **Well that could have been a lot more dramatic, but I wanted something kind of simple with a touch of angsty-ness. Sorry if you were looking for a lot more-there is going to be another story coming out soon. Three words: Lassie, Shawn, whump. They will be trapped/separated from the rest of the team and need to rely on each other-that is all I will say for now!**

 **No matter, what, thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.**


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